


Would You Dare To Dream Of Me?

by AxlotlAtHeart



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, cuteness, kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 15:33:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16767943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AxlotlAtHeart/pseuds/AxlotlAtHeart
Summary: A comfortable moment.





	Would You Dare To Dream Of Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick fic, wrote this in about 45 minutes. This is what I'm doing when I should be working on my multi-chapter wip...ah well. My first attempt at a kissing scene :)

It happens when he least expects it. On one of those snowy, windy nights when Sansa has invited him into her room and they sit together by the fire, savoring the warmth.

She’s made a cloak for him. It’s thicker and warmer than anything else he owns at the moment, fashioned like the kind she and her family wear. Like the kind he used to wear, before…well, everything. At first he didn’t accept it, couldn’t accept something she made for him when he’s so far from deserving it, but in the end she all but forced him, telling him he would need much warmer clothing in the north. 

He wears it now, in his seat by the fire. It took him a very long time to become comfortable in her room, to not feel like he was unworthy every time he took a step through the door. He still feels unworthy, but has done it so many times now that at least he’s used to it a little. Slowly, as the time they spent alone together increased, they lost the tightness they once had around each other. Now they just feel like old friends. 

It’s been a long evening. They’ve talked, drank their hot cups of wine, even managed to laugh a little. Theon almost doesn’t want to leave. It’s warm in here, in his new cloak by the fire, and he’s pleasantly tired, he’s almost comfortable for the first time in a very long while. But he knows he can’t stay longer; as familiar as he and Sansa have become with each other, he wouldn’t dream of staying with her any longer than was appropriate. He cannot help noticing things about her, though. Not the kinds of things he might have noticed if he were ten years younger, but more subtle, beautiful things. The way she breathes, the way her hands move so steadily, the strands of her hair that come undone and float across her cheeks. He thinks she is beautiful the same way the fire is beautiful; because it is a living, vibrant thing, so full of warmth and light. More than anything else, in these moments, he is glad that she is still alive and young and has the rest of her life ahead of her.

He knows he can’t stay. He thinks – or perhaps half imagines – that she looks a little saddened when he tells her so. Still, she surprises him by wrapping her arms around him and holding him in a warm embrace. He’s so startled that he almost forgets to hug back, but he does. This amount of touch, of gentleness, is still unfamiliar to him.

When she pulls away, she keeps her hands on his arms and looks at him, really looks at him. And there’s something frightening about her blue, even gaze. For once, he doesn’t look away, making himself look back at her. It was a mistake. He can feel her searching him, every inch of his face, every scar, she sees until he feels almost naked. It’s too much. She stands far too close to him. Just as he’s thinking that it’s far, far too much, that he can’t stand to look any longer, she leans in and kisses him. 

It happens so suddenly he isn’t sure how to respond. His mind is blank, halted completely, so his body responds automatically, kissing her back. It’s what he knows to do, but has not done in a very long time, so long that through the numbness he feels a faint surprise that he still remembers how. After only a few seconds, feeling and thought return in full force, and with them some measure of sense. He pulls away quickly, hands in front of him, his breathing uneven, the horror of what he has just done seeping in. 

“We can’t,” he says. He speaks in hardly more than a whisper, the kiss seems to have stolen his voice. 

“I’m sorry – Sansa, we can’t. I shouldn’t have…” A second ago he felt nothing, nothing but her, and now all he can think is that he doesn’t deserve her, that he’s unworthy, too unworthy even to be in the room with her. 

She’s still looking at him, and it’s still too much. “Sorry,” she says, “I didn’t think…I don’t know what I was thinking…”

He hates himself for making her feel ashamed. As if she had anything to be ashamed about. He was the one…no, but she kissed him. It was her choice, almost as if she had been the one to want it. 

Even though the part of his mind that’s still working properly is screaming at him not to do it, though he knows if they’re caught it will mean very, very bad things… there’s a chance it is what would make her happy. If for some reason she wants him, at this moment, she can have him. 

So, in a moment of madness, he kisses her back. And instead of pulling away like he’d half expected, she responds with greater force than he had, yet still gently. He feels her hand in his hair, against his neck, and he lifts his own hand to her back, her bright hair…

It cannot last more than a minute, but to Theon it might be an entire year. One minute of feeling nothing at all, and at the same time feeling everything in the world.

When at last they break apart, he finds her eyes are still penetrating, but not quite as hard to look at. Like staring at a full moon, rather than the sun. She is smiling, and after a moment he realizes, impossibly, that he is too.

“Goodnight,” she says. He nods, unable to say anything. 

He leaves with a feeling of lightness, of lingering warmth. Deep down, he feels he should be ashamed, that he never should have done it. But those feelings are lessened, somehow. It feels comfortable, as if it’s something they’ve done time and time again. 

It happens when he least expects it, but in the days that follow, he starts to wonder if it was inevitable.


End file.
